


The Vestibule

by charcoalscenes



Series: The Welcome Mat [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-06 08:52:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14053350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charcoalscenes/pseuds/charcoalscenes
Summary: (Written between episodes 43 and 44.)Time passes after the Tower of Hanoi falls and Revolver's defeat. After one door closes, and crumbles, along with the efforts he's made in the last several years, something else has remained open, serving warm food and offering something new now too.Or, alternatively: “Really? You still want a hotdog?”





	1. 1.0 - The Vestibule

**Author's Note:**

> Goodness let's get this baby fluff out of the way before the next couple of episodes give us a heavy dose of angst and separation and make all this wishful thinking moot why don't we.

Ryoken visits them. Third times may truly be a charm; he’s seen their truck parked conspicuously down the hill of his home only twice since his defeat by Playmaker. Neither of them have come up to visit him, nor has he had it in him yet to drop by himself. But just the sight of their mobile workplace is enough of a sign for Ryoken to pick up on, and finally, he takes the invitation.

Of course, it’s unclear, from this distance, whose idea this could be – though Yusaku is the likely candidate, the compassion Ryoken caught in the other’s eyes and inflections in the moments between their confrontation clear. Perhaps it’s not forgiveness, but certainly he had expressed a desire to reach out to Ryoken that, at such a hectic time, Ryoken had been unable to reciprocate.

Though once he finally reaches the two, he’s still unsure where he stands in their favor. It’s not as though Kusanagi was making himself terribly busy before Ryoken is close enough to be in eyeshot, but even so, the man stills, watching Ryoken meander to his truck, his young partner seated nearby staring at him as well.

Silent, all three of them regard one another. Ryoken expected this awkwardness – had even hoped for it, actually; it’s exceptionally better than any of the other realistic alternatives that he could have been met with: Rage, of course; a blame that could have been accompanied with not just harsh words or actions, but perhaps even the authorities, or SOL themselves.

What Ryoken gets, instead, is the Ignis feeling arrogantly cozy enough post-battle to appear as well, watching Ryoken along with the others for his next move or word. What Ryoken gets is the smell of Kusanagi’s grilling, the pressure of Yusaku’s observation, and the inevitable uneasiness that such a terse sort of attention from both of them brings. After what is less than a minute but feels like several solid ones, Ryoken steps up to the truck, his actions guided only by what feels familiar.

And, of course, Kusanagi blunts, staring down with hard eyes as Ryoken stands before his window, “Really? You still want a hotdog?”

* * *

 

It all goes as well as it could.

Kusanagi still feels ambivalent. At times, Ryoken wonders if most people his own age are more similar to him than what would be expected. Maybe all young adults waver – from thinking they act more mature for their age, to wondering if they will ever stop being a child at all. In any case, he can’t help but feel indignant when Kusanagi voices, tone not so resigned, “You were just a kid.” Ryoken knows he would have smiled if they were only on better terms. “Hell, you still are.”

Ryoken’s presence is tolerated, he thinks; Kusanagi’s words are soft and clipped, keeping a distance and seeing where such an interaction might go, and how things may develop from here on. For now, this precarious sort of politeness – it’s more than enough.  

Yusaku, on the other hand…

“Let’s trade numbers.” Yusaku presses once both their small meals are already finished and Ryoken begins to consider taking his leave.

Ryoken pauses, naturally. “Why?”

“So I can text you.” Yusaku explains, clinical, as though it isn’t really all that absurd to ask for the contact of a rival (–former?) so soon after something as terrifying as _The Tower of Hanoi_.

“What for?” Ryoken side-eyes. “Will you need me for something?”

Behind him, Kusanagi sighes, deep, but Yusaku is still speaking casually and Ryoken keeps his eyes on him. “Maybe.”

“Then you know where to find me.”

“But you won’t know where to find _us_ .” Yusaku then wastes no time, pulling out his phone– _How old is that model?_ – and unlocks it, opening the app for dialing. Without preamble, he hands it to him. “It’s practical for us to keep in easy contact. And this way, we can talk often.”

Ryoken repeats, his voice deliberately flat, in an effort to echo Yusaku’s words back to him and illustrate what it sounds like. “So we can _talk often_.”

“Just give Yusaku your number it’s not like you have better things to do anymore anyway!” The Ignis – _Ai_ – screeches in a single breath, obnoxiously chagrined. “What do we have to do, pull your arm to get a number out of you–”

“It’s not a trap.” Yusaku thankfully interrupts, placing his phone down in front of Ryoken for him to take. “Obviously. We would have tried harder to out you by now if that’s what we want, and at this point, it’d be easier.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Ryoken hums. He stares at the innocuous device for a beat longer, then picks it up, his fingers slowly inserting his contact. Perhaps for the sake of stalling, he even completes the process for Yusaku, saving his first name before returning his phone to him.

“Thank you.” Yusaku pockets it without checking. Then, he looks back up, meeting Ryoken’s eyes. For some reason, just the small act of giving Yusaku this, after everything, has Ryoken abashed, but Yusaku’s gaze holds his. “What will you do now?”

* * *

 

_Respond to your messages, apparently._

At first, he doesn’t send Ryoken actual typed words. After the initial brief conversation of, “this is yusaku. save my contact.” “alright,” Yusaku sends him only a location two days later, without any further detail or comment.

Thinking back, Ryoken doesn’t know why he didn’t think to message Yusaku back asking what it meant, but at the time, he couldn’t help but worry. Such succinct messages from his former-comrades-in-arms usually meant that they were in a situation so risky that they didn’t have the time or opportunity to type much. So, Ryoken drives to where Yusaku invites him once more.

It’s close to a spacious sidewalk, in the midst of workplaces and small shops. Kusanagi’s truck is easily found. The owner of the shop himself seems at ease behind the window, preparing a meal for the two patrons in front of him and making light conversation with a nonchalant smile.

Yusaku sits on his usual spot beside the vehicle. For once, his gaze isn’t glued to his screen, but instead surveying his surroundings, ceasing once he spots Ryoken.

“What is it?” Ryoken greets with, taking the seat beside him. His voice is low out of suspicion; there’s no sight of immediate danger at the moment, but Yusaku’s message has him spooked and wondering if it’s actually that he has new information to share.

But Yusaku only answers, “Nothing.”

“What do you mean?” Ryoken asks, but, in all honesty, he’s already getting a good impression of what’s going on. “You sent me a message for this location,” he says redundantly, as if detailing what Yusaku himself is orchestrating in a tone of disbelief could change anything.

“Yeah.” Yusaku answers, then stands up. “I did.”

Ryoken falls silent, a little stunned. Yusaku steps closer to Kusanagi, whose eyes flit to where Ryoken sits, and orders two hotdogs and drinks with an additional snack.

Distantly, Ryoken realizes that this is probably the first time he’s ever heard the voice that’s been haunting him for _months_  ( _years?_ ) delivering anything that isn’t only intensely directed towards some dramatic goal. At this moment, the voice that’s followed Ryoken into his dreams is only ordering them both some hotdogs.

Yusaku returns, untroubled, and seats himself again. “Is what I ordered alright for you?” He asks.

“What are we doing here?” Ryoken isn’t even sure if he’s angry at what’s happened; embarrassed, for sure, and embarrassment can lead to anger – or at least the misguided feelings that Yusaku may harbor for Ryoken that would lead him to do this can. “Why did you call me here?”

“I don’t have a reason.” Yusaku doesn’t hesitate to say. “It’s just for the sake of inviting you to come. Maybe you can help us investigate SOL and Cyberverse from here, with us. If not–” Here, finally, he looks at least somewhat hesitant, eyes finally sliding away in avoidance. “–you can just come by for the sake of coming.”

“Yusaku!” Kusanagi calls. He places two drinks and an atrociously large funnel cake on the counter beside the burgers that the strangers in front of him had ordered. “Thank you, come again!” He says as they leave.

“Help me carry our food.” Yusaku orders, and just like that, with such a finalizing, casual tone, Ryoken finds himself relenting. It takes him a moment, but he stands after Yusaku, the other ever-sure in his footsteps and manners, and goes to do the proper thing and take one of the grossly large sodas in his hand.

“I don’t drink soda.” Ryoken says.

Yusaku stops, then places his food on the table softly. “You didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t ask.” Then, to give just a piece of what Yusaku deserves for doing this to him, he adds, “You actually didn’t say much to me at all for coming here.”

“Kusanagi,” Yusaku addresses. “Can I get one water?”

“Why?” Likely, it’s from the situation that Yusaku practically yanked him into, but Ryoken finds just the small questioning Kusanagi gives rather audacious. “What’s wrong with the soda?”

“He doesn’t drink soda.” Yusaku informs. Ryoken feels his own eyes wander of their own accord to the ground near his feet.

“He doesn’t drink soda? Man.” Kusanagi briskly preps a full plastic cup for Yusaku to handle. “That’s a healthy choice, I guess.”

“As someone who frequented a place to buy so many hotdogs, I didn’t expect you to be conscious over things like this.” Yusaku admits to Ryoken, placing the other’s drink in front of his chair. “Did you used to come by just to see us? Did you eat any of the food you bought?”

“Of course.” Ryoken mumbles. He doesn’t elaborate which question he just answered. “Are we really just going to eat now?” He tries to clarify.

“You better eat now.” Kusanagi warns, then hands Yusaku the main course. Yusaku balances the two hotdogs in one hand effortlessly while taking some ketchup and mustard packets in his another.

“If you like, we can also talk.” Yusaku says, easing down on his seat. Aimless over what else to do other than walk away, Ryoken follows. A few more customers stroll to Kusanagi then, two small parties eyeing the rather limited options on the truck’s menu. “How have things been on your end?” Yusaku asks, squirting his food with ketchup.

Ryoken doesn’t know if he’s ready to actually reach out and do the same with his own food. He’s fantasized about it before; how could he not? It wouldn’t have been easy for him with all the weight in his mind and soul at the time before his father’s passing to simply sit across from him – Playmaker, victim, rival, soulmate, _Yusaku Fujiki_ – and eat such a simple meal and _talk_. But oh, has he imagined the things he could have said, the different ways he could have acted.

_“Mind if I sit here?”_

_“I see you a lot.”_

_“What are you working on?”_

_“I recognize your uniform.”_

_“Hey, your voice sounds kind of familiar.”_

_“I’ve seen your eyes before, haven’t I?”_

_“Don’t I know you?”_

_“_ **_I know you._ ** _”_

“You don’t have to talk about it.” Yusaku says now, sucking on a stained finger before taking a bite of his food.

“I’d rather not.” Ryoken eyes the company close by, several strangers speaking with one another and Yusaku’s partner. “Not here.”

“I understand.” Yusaku says, then falls silent. Ryoken grabs at his hotdog, suddenly self-conscious. Yusaku looks to all the world as though he just doesn’t care; he doesn’t care that he’s Playmaker, hero of Link Vrains. He doesn’t care that he’s eating in front of _Revolver_ , infamous cyber-criminal, wanted and at large. He doesn’t care that they could have unwittingly killed each other on numerous occasions.

But Ryoken cares. He cares that this is the same boy, grown now, who hasn’t left his mind since he was eight. He cares that Yusaku had been hurt and manifested his anger into a honed tool. He cares that _this is Playmaker_ , who Ryoken has only seen as rugged and full of fury or focus _until now_ , when he gets to see his former rival in this state: Eased, eating, inviting.

Even more so than Kusanagi, Yusaku is presenting Ryoken with something he knows is more than deserved.

Ryoken takes his food, and after a moment more of staring at his company, takes a bite out of it. He lulls into a quiet alongside him, light chatter and traffic surrounding them.


	2. 1.5 - Medicine Cabinet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry; this isn't really a chapter. This is an extra scene. I have no discipline. And it's a segway into the next part; it's also being published today, so this helps it flow. Right?

Ryoken never wants a funnel cake again. 

It’s a quick and simple decision to make after Yusaku nudged half of it in his direction. Ryoken hasn’t felt this cramped in years. His father’s lectures had been light and comforting when Ryoken was a child going through aches that only questionable choices in diet could inspire, giving him plenty of medicine and drinks as well as advice. Since those times, Kiyoshi had guided Ryoken in maintaining a healthier lifestyle until, of course, he’d been able to follow through on his own. 

After that first surprise rendezvous with Yusaku, Ryoken’s stomach is in enough discomfort that, for the first time since the day of his defeat, he doesn’t even muster up much melancholy at a memory of his father; he’s too distracted by both the pain and by the ones who caused it. 

Kyoshi would have called them both (all three of them?) bad influences. 

He takes some aspirin and rests it off, only to take Yusaku’s invitation to come by the foodtruck again a few days after. This time, Yusaku has enough decency to actually write out his intentions, if but with only the implication of it using so many words.  _ “we’re outside. are you there?”  _

Instead of writing back, Ryoken grabs a jacket and shoes before his feet drag him outside; his body is no doubt still subconsciously resentful at the upcoming company for putting him through a food coma, but he makes it down in little time regardless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was wrong but please enjoy if you continue into Part 2.


End file.
